Door 2 by NewTwilightFan
by cheaterscontest
Summary: Temptation finds us all. How we choose to respond defines us. Will we resist? Or be consumed? CheaterContest Entry.


**Title of Story: Door #2**

 **Rating: T**

 **Pairing: Bella, Seth & Edward**

 **Genre: Angst, Romance**

 **Word Count: 9949**

 **Story Summary: Temptation finds us all. How we choose to respond defines us. Will we resist? Or be consumed?**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 ***O*o*O***

Do you follow life's path blindly? Or recklessly? Do you act without thought, then wish you could take it all back once you realize the cost? Perhaps you are consumed by regret. I am blessed because, despite the unexpected turns and dips in the path of my life, I have no regrets.

If you are very fortunate, you make your choices with absolute joy and confidence, blind to the possible futures that are instantaneously snuffed out, and then you go on living in blissful ignorance. Because really, how can you regret losing something you never knew existed, especially when the path you chose is so wonderfully perfect?

I chose Door #1 before I ever knew there were other portals or paths to different futures. I wouldn't change that choice, not for the whole world. But there was a moment in time when I questioned it. Just one moment. That moment transformed me in ways I cannot describe.

Once upon a time, I met the man behind Door #2. At the time, I had been married for 13 years, and I was still irrevocably in love. Seth and I had two boys in middle school, a house in the suburbs, and my career as an Italian/English translator was more fulfilling and rewarding than I ever dreamed it could be. I had everything I ever knew I wanted, right up to the moment when I was confronted by a choice, a path, a future so breathtaking that I was spellbound. . . beckoning from beyond an impassable barrier.

I am a wife, a mother and a grandmother. I adored my husband until the moment he took his final breath, I fight for my friendships no matter what the threat, I protect my children, I dote on my grand babies, and I challenge myself every day to be a better person than I was yesterday.

My name is Isabella Clearwater. I have led a charmed life. Everyone should be this lucky.

Even so, in moments like this, when the house is quiet and I am alone with my most private thoughts, I wonder. . . I dream. . . I consider the possible paths that I never explored, the forks in the road I never travelled. . . and I pray that the man I once glimpsed beyond Door #2 is as happy as I am.

 ***O*o*O***

My mother enrolled me in dance classes when I was eight years old. I was a horribly clumsy child. I was timid and insecure. Dance gave me something incredible. It gave me a beat to follow, a rhythm to embrace, and the confidence to consign my body to both.

Out of the studio, off the dance floor, I was still embarrassingly awkward. I could live with that. I had two escapes that were all about me, all for me; my books and my dancing.

My mother used to say I was a late bloomer. The truth is, I never actually bloomed. Flowers bloom. It's a natural process. I was a hermit crab, and I was pried out of my shell by circumstance during my junior year of high school.

My best friend, Alice, was the head cheerleader at our school. She didn't fit any of the stereotypes. She was short, thin and dark haired, not busty and blond. She got incredible grades without flirting with her teachers or suckering nerds into writing her essays. She was dating a boy from the drama club, not the team captain of the football team. She was sweet and funny and generous, not a condescending, stuck up socialite. In short, she was her own person and never felt the need to apologize for that fact.

I attended every football game to cheer on my friends from dance class. Not that the cheerleaders needed a cheerleader, but it was fun to be a part of the excitement even if I was just on the sidelines. The night of our second home game, Lauren landed wrong after a complicated aerial and broke her ankle. It was traumatic for her, terrifying for the other girls, and completely destroyed the team's chances to compete in the regional cheer competition.

Alice begged, cajoled and blackmailed me into joining the team. She didn't want me to replace Lauren. That would have been impossible. Lauren was a gymnast and the most talented girl on the team. Instead, Alice and Jessica planned to adjust the choreography to compensate for Lauren's absence with their own routines, but they still needed another body to support and balance the formations, somebody who was already familiar with the routines and could learn the dances quickly. I suddenly regretted going to all the games and sitting in the bleachers doing homework while Alice drilled the other girls every day after school. That exposure made me the perfect girl, the only girl, for the job. I was their only chance to remain competitive.

Over the following nine days, Alice alternately hammered, yanked and winkled me out of my shell until I found myself dressed in a skimpy skirt, bouncing, screaming and kicking at the next home game with the entire football team, student body and a ton of teachers and parents watching.

I don't know who was more shocked, them or me.

The next Monday at school, Jacob Black asked me out. He was the quarterback and team captain. He was playful and flirty and gorgeous. And he didn't do a thing for me.

I didn't just get asked out by football players. Wrestlers, basketball players, the drum major from the marching band. . . they were all treating me as if I was some shiny new toy, when in reality I was the same plain brunette, bookworm, just shy of a 4.0 student, introverted girl they had all known for years.

Alice thought it was hilarious. I wanted to die.

My relief from the madness came from an unexpected quarter; an old friend named Seth Clearwater. We had first started hanging out when we were assigned as partners during freshman Biology. We just got each other. There was none of the normal teenage angst or drama in our friendship. Throughout freshman year we had several classes together, sat together at lunch and went to the school dances together. My mom cornered me once and asked if we were 'dating'. I was honestly shocked. I didn't feel an ounce of sexual attraction for Seth. He was just Seth, you know?

Sophomore year he was asked out by Tia, one of the flute players in the marching band. She was cute and funny, but her constant presence made me feel like a third wheel. I started sitting with Alice and the other cheerleaders at lunch. We didn't have any classes together either so I barely saw him. Seth was on the football team, too. He was a third string wide receiver. He was fast, but not quite fast enough. He was short and slender and the coaches worried about him getting hurt if he got tackled wrong. He didn't get much field time that year. I would occasionally pick him out from the cluster of padded and helmeted boys on the sidelines. Once in awhile he caught me looking and gave me a small wave or a smile. He was telling me we were still friends. I thought it was sweet.

Junior year I was preoccupied with school and my plans for college. We didn't have any classes together, but I didn't really notice. We had grown apart slowly and naturally with no hurt feelings or fights. It just happened. But when circumstance threw us back together part way through first quarter, things were very, very different.

During the second game I cheered at, one of our wide receivers stole the show. It was like he had glue on his gloves and a jet engine strapped to his back. Every single pass stuck. He would yank the ball out of the sky, spin in mid-air and come down charging, racing across the turf with yards between his heels and the opposite team. I screamed as loud as everyone else. It was a stunning victory. I was completely floored when the MVP of the game yanked off his helmet after the final whistle and I recognized him. Seth Clearwater had grown, filled out and aged over the summer. He looked like a man. My stomach did more cartwheels than Alice and Jessica combined.

There was a party after the game, and I let Alice drag me along. Seth's face lit up when he saw me. He was high on his performance and swept me into a bone-crushing hug. I was thrilled to see him. We seemed to pick up right where we left off before he met Tia, who he was no longer dating. We didn't have any classes together, but we went right back to our old routine of talking between classes, joking around in the parking lot after school and watching B-movies on the old TV in his dad's garage.

Everything was the same, with one major addition. I had an insane, all-consuming crush on him.

Senior year, we were inseparable. He never asked me out. He didn't have to. I begrudgingly gave my mom credit for what she had seen years before anyone else. Seth was the love of my life.

We shared our first kiss after the homecoming game senior year. The photo made it into the yearbook. Him in his football gear, hair plastered to his head with sweat. Me in my cheer uniform, stretching up on my tip toes with my pom-poms gripped behind his neck. That photo still brings tears to my eyes. It takes me back to a time before the aches and stiffness of old age. It resurrects the bubbling feeling of joy and vibrancy that colored my teenage years. I am that young, innocent girl, giving her heart, pure, whole and untouched, to a boy who would treasure it and protect it forever. He never failed me once, not one single time in our 37 years together.

We finally did 'it' the following spring. For two clumsy, over-eager virgins, it was pretty incredible. Seth was awkward and shy, fumbling with the condom and apologizing every few seconds. But once he was inside me and kissing me, we figured things out pretty quickly. Both of our parents worked full-time, so we had plenty of opportunities to practice.

I remember one afternoon so clearly. Seth wanted to try something different. His friends said that all their girlfriends loved it, but when he knelt in front of me and leaned in to kiss me _there,_ I panicked. I was uncomfortable and embarrassed. Seth told me he wanted to make me feel special, not uncomfortable. He described how it made him feel to look at me and touch me. He held me against his muscular chest and talked until I stopped freaking out. And then he ran his fingers gently over my body, focusing on one feature at a time, helping me see my beauty from his perspective. When his fingers finally found their way between my thighs, I was melting and breathless. I didn't resist when his lips and tongue joined in. Instead I was urging him on with breathless cries and panting moans. I had never felt so loved or adored. I think I was speechless for an hour afterward.

As much as we loved sex, we still found so much else to do. We both had jobs around town, and we were both waiting eagerly for acceptance letters for college. Our biggest disappointment came when I was accepted into UW and he wasn't. Seth had been hoping for some acknowledgement of his talent on the field to offset his mediocre GPA. Unfortunately, our school was far off the beaten path, and very few recruiters took the time to visit. UW had too competitive a program to have room for our small-town star.

Seth didn't give up, though. And he didn't want me to back off. We made plans to rent an apartment in North Seattle where he could work at a fitness club and I could catch a bus into school. That plan would take nine parts back-breaking work and one part pure luck to succeed, but it was our plan, our future, and we were determined to make it happen.

We never ended up following that plan. Three days after graduation, I missed my period.

Seth held my hand with tears in his eyes while I took the pregnancy test. We both knew the answer before we ever saw the blue plus sign. I was terrified. He smiled. It was a watery, shaky, scared-as-hell smile, but it was a smile. He kissed me and held me. I clung to him and couldn't let go.

Our parents were not shocked. Disappointed, worried, nervous. . . but not shocked. We told them we were getting married, and they didn't fight us. Seth's mom made the cake, my mom arranged the flowers, and Alice was my maid-of-honor. Our wedding feast was pizza and soda in the Clearwaters' back yard. It was a small ceremony, thrown together in under two weeks, but it was perfect.

Looking back, there were many times that I felt as if we were rushing through life strapped to the front of a freight train, but as long as Seth was holding my hand, willing to ride on or leap off with me, it was okay.

Seth insisted I stick with my plans for school. His aunt lived in Bellevue, just across Lake Washington from UW, and agreed to rent her basement to us for the cost of the utilities we used while there. Seth finished his physical training certification and found a job at a local gym. I threw myself into classes, knowing that I would have to take spring quarter off. I didn't have time for dancing or reading anything other than assigned material. I needed to accomplish as much as I could before the baby came. We were both exhausted and scared. I resented the glares I received from men and women who were old enough to mind their manners and too judgmental to bother. I was hurt when I was excluded from group discussions during class. One of my professors pulled me aside one day and tried to counsel me about wise life choices, all the while casting disparaging glances at the bulge under my blouse.

When I finally climbed into bed each night, eyes burning and emotions frayed, Seth would curl his giant frame protectively around me and whisper all the ways I was beautiful and smart and amazing to him. And then we would talk about the baby and share our dreams and plans for him.

I went into labor right in the middle of finals week. Our parents made the long drive to Bellevue to be there when Devon was born. If they had showed up 12 minutes later, they would have missed it. I remember the pain. But I also remember Seth's eyes, pinched with fear and worry as contraction after contraction threatened to tear me open from the inside. And I remember his eyes, shamelessly shedding tears of joy and wonder as he accepted the tightly swaddled, screaming bundle from the nurse and brought him to me for his very first kiss. My heart expanded so fast that it ached for days. My love for Devon and Seth transformed me. Every critical look and hurtful comment became like dust in the wind.

Seth took a second job to help compensate for the additional expenses. By day he worked at the gym. At night he worked as a security guard at a business complex on the other side of I-405. He rode his bike to and from both jobs no matter what the weather. His paychecks barely covered our expenses now that we had to pay for diapers and other necessities. He never complained, even though I knew he was exhausted.

I was nursing the baby when he came in at 2:30 am one morning. He tiptoed down the stairs, but his face lit up with a grin when he saw I was awake.

"Babe, you're not gonna believe it," he said, kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning his uniform shirt.

"Believe what?" I asked in a whisper, bouncing Devon gently as he nursed.

"I got a promotion at the gym. Assistant Manager. That means a salary and benefits, plus bonuses. Things are gonna get better real quick."

"Wow! That's awesome. Wait. . . what about the security position? You can't keep working 60 hours a week. You barely sleep as it is!"

"I turned in my notice tonight. The GM wants to move me up as soon as possible. I just have to fly out for a training course next week. I already talked to my mom. She said she can drive up here and stay for the week if you want, to help out with Devon."

I remember crying and squeezing the baby too tight, making him grunt in protest. I remember kissing Seth hard through the tears, feeling the weightlessness of hope and pride bursting through me. He was only 19 years old, and he was already an assistant manager! The last year had been so fraught with embarrassment and fear and belligerent hopefulness that I almost couldn't believe our situation could change.

But it did change. It got better. So much better. Over the next three years, we rented an apartment, welcomed another squirmy little boy and celebrated my college graduation. Seth moved up through the management ranks rapidly, becoming the youngest general manager the franchise had ever hired.

I worked as a part-time editor for a local parenting magazine for several years after graduation. After my 20th issue, I was about to tear my hair out from boredom. We published articles like a revolving door, rehashing the same subjects on an 18 months rotation, trusting that most parents with young children would outgrow the magazine before they caught on to the repetitive garbage.

Seth cornered me one day, covering my mouth to stop a rant I didn't even realize I was spewing. "You hate that place. And you can't stand the senior editor. Try something new. Devon and Jemmy are both in school now. It's not like we need your income to survive. We have room in our budget for once. Take the time to find something you love. Please."

And just like that, I could breathe again. I hadn't even realized how the job I had once been grateful for, which allowed me the flexibility to raise my own children, was slowly sucking the life and creativity from my soul. I sent Jane a letter to tell her I was resigning my position after our next issue, then I sat in front of my computer and stared at a blank page for hours. There was nothing that I wanted to write on my resume. There was nothing that I had accomplished at the magazine that I was truly proud of. My pride was my family, and who was going to pay me for that? I didn't want to puff myself up to win somebody else's approval. I didn't want another job. I wanted a life!

I started typing.

When Seth peeked his head into the room two hours later, I had filled four pages with my interests, my strengths, my skills and random tidbits of dreams and questions and flights of fancy. He pulled a stool close behind me, sat down with his knees flanking my thighs and his hands on my hips, rested his chin on my shoulder and laughed.

"That list looks kind of how I imagine the inside of your head looks."

"This is the inside of my head," I retorted, elbowing him lightly.

"Mmmm. It's crazy but beautiful. So, what does it all mean?"

"I don't know yet," I replied.

That statement didn't scare me. As it turned out, that conversation was the first page of a fantastic journey. But the first chapter wasn't very hopeful.

I did all the same things that other young, unemployed English majors do. I created a LinkedIn profile, wrote a biography, joined a few writing groups and started a novel. My LinkedIn profile got a few hits from former classmates, my writing groups turned into coffee and wine-drinking sessions, and my novel stalled out 30 pages in when I realized I wanted nothing more than to kill off my obnoxious, entitled, Gucci-toting heroine. Apart from spending unlimited time with my three favorite guys that year, the only other bright spot was meeting Lucca.

Lucca was an Italian-American sous chef, but he had always dreamed of being a playwright. He would recite scenes from his stories with bright eyes, wildly gesticulating arms, and the most horrendous grammar, usually sending the rest of our writing group into fits of tipsy giggles. I told him I wanted to brush up on my Italian, which, after several years away from the classroom, had gone from mediocre to unintelligible. His response was to chatter at me in Italian before and after our weekly meetings, he cooked a real Italian meal in our new home as a housewarming gift, and he paid me to assist him in the proper translation of his plays from Italian to English.

What started as a hobby became an obsession. Seth took an entire month off of work the following summer, something we could actually afford to do by that point, and we travelled to Italy, where we met Lucca's family and immersed ourselves in the language, wine, food and history of the country. Devon and Jeremiah loved it, quickly sucking up the vernacular like the sponges they were, making friends with Lucca's nephews and becoming just as rowdy and playfully obnoxious as their Italian counterparts.

The trip turned into an annual expedition across the pond, and my translation skills were called on more and more frequently, thanks to Lucca's very vocal extended family and their network of friends in all walks of life. I very quickly gained the proficiency, and the confidence, to translate English works into Italian. Soon I had my own office with an assistant, but I still opted to work from home on occasion.

My success gave Seth the opportunity to branch out on his own, leaving the big box fitness industry behind to start a gym of his own. At first his schedule was more demanding, and he only joined us on our Italy trip for five days. However, our community loved his down-to-earth approach to health and fitness, and his clientele ballooned, enabling him to hire a few guys and gals he had worked with in the past.

On our twelfth anniversary, we signed papers to purchase our dream home, with four bedrooms plus an office and a upstairs rec room for the boys. The basement was unfinished, and the landscaping was a mess, but we chipped away at it week by week, turning it into our personal retreat.

Devon and Jeremiah lobbied pretty hard for us to finish the basement as a game room slash home theater. Seth and I held back, taking care of the more pressing repairs and upgrades first, but by the time Devon entered eighth grade, we decided to press forward, sketching plans that included a small bar and kitchenette, an additional bathroom, a theater room with stepped seating, and a gaming area. It was going to be the man cave to put all man caves to shame.

When we were ready to make the plans a reality, Seth called the contractor we had used to remodel the kitchen, but he already had jobs lined up for the next three months. He referred us to a friend of his, someone he claimed had the carpentry skills to build us a custom bar, and also do the required plumbing and electrical work.

When Seth showed me the estimate a few days later, I coughed, cleared my throat, then laughed out loud. "For that price, he better chop the trees down himself and plane the boards by hand."

"Last time we went with a random dude, you complained about the shoddy workmanship for months. Alec says this guy is legit, and after meeting him and seeing his portfolio, I believe it. Come on, Bella. Check it out."

Seth showed me the contractor's website, and I had to admit that I was impressed. Even more so when I realized he was a one-man show. He didn't parcel out his work to minions after securing the job. He personally drafted the plans, purchased the supplies and did all of the work himself.

Unwilling to admit that I could be wrong, I muttered under my breath, "Edward Cullen? Even his name sounds pretentious."

"He's a carpenter. How many pretentious carpenters do you know?"

"None. Let's keep it that way. Fortunately, you decided to take the next two weeks off, so you can babysit the man. I'm only a third of the way through this romance novel. For some reason, it sounds trashier in Italian, if that's even possible. Oh well, it's a paycheck, and I get to come up with creative euphemisms."

"You'll have to read it to me when you're finished. In Italian. I might not understand more than one out of ten words, but it's guaranteed to be sexy as fuck," he said, pulling me in for a deep kiss.

That's how we were. Conversations like that were as close as we ever came to arguing or fighting. Seth was too sunny, too positive, too easy to be with to ever make me want to fight with him. Alice used to tease me that we were sweeter than an ice cream sundae; endless layers of ice cream, syrup, candy and sprinkles, nothing more than a bowl full of gooey sweetness. She wasn't far off.

Seth and I signed the contract, because the plans really were exactly what we wanted. A few days later, supplies began to arrive. I came back from the office one afternoon to find Seth, Devon and Jeremiah chattering and goofing around in the basement, poring over piles of woods, fixtures, rolls of carpet and boxes of tiles.

"This is what forty grand looks like," I said, rolling my eyes.

"No. This is just the building supplies. Edward said the electronics, furniture and glass for the bar will be delivered after he's finished the wiring, sheetrock, floors and paint," Seth corrected me with a grin on his face.

I whistled under my breath and left them to their excitement. I ate alone that evening, sitting at the dining table, chowing down on take-out Chinese and listening to their rowdy antics rising up through the floorboards. I was grinning, too. Even if I had to translate ten trashy romance novels to pay for it, it was worth it.

Every evening when I got home, I slipped downstairs to see the progress. It was slow, at first. Sheetrock and sawdust and battered power tools all over the place. But there was a point when it all accelerated. Seth was acting as Edward's assistant, learning about the entertainment system wiring and lending a hand with the heavier tasks. He had a whole new vocabulary that left my head spinning. But he was also brimming with excitement and pride, playfully boisterous in his good spirits.

That Friday I sent the completed translation off to the publisher for review, dismissed my assistant early and swung by the store to grab a couple take-and-bake pizzas. As I pulled into our subdivision, I passed a beat up pick up truck. The driver glanced my way, and our eyes locked. I can't even describe that moment. The way we seemed to hang on eternity itself, trapped between seconds, a recognition of something deep and timeless hovering between us. With a terrified gasp, I jerked the wheel, yanking my car back into its lane, and broke the spell.

Minutes later I sat in my car in the driveway, the engine off but the doors shut, and breathed slowly in and out. The sensation was stronger than deja vu. And much stranger. Like ants crawling up my spine, but not actually frightening. Shaking away the dysphoria, I grabbed the pizza boxes and ran up the front steps, calling out to the boys to join me in the kitchen to bake the pizzas and make a salad. With homework, sports, and a birthday party to attend, the weekend flew by, and I quickly forgot about the strange incident.

Early Monday morning, Seth got a phone call. His top trainer, Ben, was in the hospital with a suspected case of appendicitis. Seth didn't want to cancel their clients' sessions, especially on such short notice.

"Can you work from home this week?" he asked as he set down his phone. "When we wrapped up on Friday, Edward said most of the rough work was done, and he would only need a hand when the furniture arrives at the end of the week. Actually, I'm fine with giving him a key and just letting him do what he needs to do. He's solid. I trust him."

I lay in bed, thinking through my schedule for the week. There was no reason why I couldn't manage my correspondence from home. I had several pamphlets to translate and some web content to edit and revise, but nothing that required my undivided attention or face-to-face meetings.

"It's okay. I can work from home. Jemmy might need help finishing that diorama for Social Studies before Wednesday. It'll be good to be here when the boys get home from school for a change."

"You're the best. Love you, babe."

He kissed me full on the lips then scrambled through a shower, grabbed a banana and a protein bar, then disappeared out the door to meet his first client for a 5:45 session. I was wide awake then, so I did my own short workout on the exercise bike in the garage, showered and made breakfast for the boys.

By 7:30 I had the house to myself. I puttered around a bit, loading the dishwasher, changing the water in the flower vase in the foyer, straightening the shoes in the shoe rack. Our cleaning lady came every week, so there really wasn't much for me to do. Seth and I, with all our hard work, had successfully put me out of a job as a housewife.

At 7:58 there was a loud rumble in the street and the squeak of brakes as a large truck pulled up to the curb and stopped. It was a nondescript beast, just like dozens of other trucks used by contractors and yard maintenance crews all over town, but I knew I had seen it before. My stomach plunged precipitously, then rose up into my throat.

I watched through the window as Edward Cullen stepped down from the driver's seat and came around the back of the truck. He was looking down, a cigarette dangling from his lips, strapping a wide belt around his waist. He popped open the canopy and pulled a few items out, slipping them into his belt. Then he lifted a rust-stained tool box out, closed the door and dropped his cigarette onto the damp pavement, grinding it out with the toe of his boot.

He looked up then, his eyes sharp and searching beneath dark brows and tousled red-brown hair. His gaze locked onto mine like a compass needle on magnetic north. He never looked away, even as he came up the paved steps. With my pulse pounding in my ears, I opened the door to greet him.

"Good morning, Mr. Cullen. I'm Bella. Seth was called into work early this morning. Please come right in." I stepped back, feeling like a vacuum was sucking the air from my lungs. "I'll be working out of my home office today. Just upstairs. Call if you need anything at all."

My words were rushed, my voice too tight, but I managed to maintain the formal distance of strangers. Inside, my stomach was quaking. He didn't respond immediately, his eyes searching my face, taking in the brightness of my eyes, the fire in my cheeks, the quivering of my chest as my heart raced like a frightened rabbit.

Looking into Seth's eyes was like being bathed in the purest sunrise. Warmth, clarity, promise.

Right then I felt as if I'd been dropped into a cauldron of liquid flame. Edward's eyes scorched me from the inside until my throat burned and my eyes watered. I looked away, fighting vertigo.

"I think I have everything I need," he replied, his voice a soft rumble. His breath was spearmint and tobacco, and his clothes were blue-collar standard - worn Levis and a flannel shirt. But his eyes were fierce. The eyes of a hunter.

I excused myself with a nervous smile, climbing the stairs with his gaze burning my back. Several minutes passed before I heard his heavy, booted feet thumping down to the basement. I stood with my back pressed against my office door and listened to him work. Drilling, sawing and shifting large objects around, the smack of his hammer and the occasional thud as he wrestled the dusty chaos into something more urbane.

I accomplished nothing that morning. My computer screen was a white blur that periodically turned black. I would blink, jiggle the mouse, then zone out again. It was almost noon when I tiptoed down to the kitchen to fix myself some lunch. My instincts told me to eat quickly and escape back upstairs. There was something so disconcerting about having this stranger in my house, but being unable to stop thinking about him. We had hired dozens of contractors, plumbers and technicians over the years, yet I had never felt so off-balance.

That's about the time my rational mind kicked in. I didn't know what was wrong with me, but I couldn't allow whatever this was to make me act any differently than I normally would. I always treated our contractors like guests. I always offered them drinks and food at meal times. To treat Edward Cullen differently, just because I found his presence distracting, would be unforgivably rude. What's more, I would only be confirming that some unseen power was controlling me. And it wasn't. I was in control of myself, both mind and body.

I made a second sandwich, filled a small bowl with hot soup and poured a second glass of ice water. I loaded the meal onto a tray and carefully carried it down to the basement.

I stood in the doorway and looked around in amazement. In just four short hours, Edward had painted all the walls and ceiling. Stacks of supplies were gathered in the center of the gaming area, and he was nailing molding around the ceiling. The recessed lights were already installed and bathed the whole space in a bright, cheerful glow.

"You like it?" he asked, grinning as he used the dimmer switches to lower and raise the lights.

"It's fantastic," I answered truthfully. "I didn't want to interrupt, but I was making myself something to eat, and I thought you might be hungry."

"Even if I wasn't hungry, I would eat it. That smells delicious."

"It's just cold cuts and canned soup."

"It's better than what I packed. I have a water bottle and a handful of granola bars in my truck. I always seem to have trouble getting up on Monday mornings. That sandwich is gourmet by comparison. Thanks, Mrs. Clearwater."

"Just Bella is fine."

"Call me Edward," he said, his mouth turning up into a gentle smile.

That smile sparked something inside of me, awakening something I couldn't name. I almost lost my balance as I stepped between the extension cords and saw horses to offer him the tray. Edward straddled a stack of boards and set the tray across his knees. I looked everywhere but at him. The urge to watch him eat, to know if the food I had prepared pleased him, was almost blinding. I peeked into the newly tiled bathroom, surprised to see that it was already finished. Our last bathroom remodel had taken a whole week with a two-person team.

"Is it how you imagined?" Edward asked between bites.

I nodded. The dark grays and blues, combined with the brushed nickel fixtures, were classy and masculine, without being too dark or heavy.

"You're a pretty amazing wife to let your husband and sons have an entire floor as a man cave."

"Don't give me too much credit. I've wanted a home theater since the boys were babies and we couldn't make it through a movie without interruptions. Besides, blue is my favorite color."

"Mine, too," he replied, his eyes drifting down to my blouse, lingering on the way it clung to my breasts and stomach.

I felt my face burning and had to escape. "Just leave the tray on the counter when you're done. I'll collect it this evening," I said, then hurried up the stairs.

My heart was racing again. I carried my food up to my office, but I could barely choke down half of it. Then, no longer concerned about being polite or helpful if he called, I put on my headphones, cranked up my music, and tried to focus on something other than Edward's depthless eyes.

His truck was gone when I finally gathered my courage and went downstairs. Devon and Jemmy were planted in front of the television. Jemmy had a bowl of tortilla chips at his elbow and a bunch of papers spread out on the coffee table. Devon was splitting his attention between the television and his phone, probably texting his friends.

I tried to act normal. I asked them about school and offered to help with their homework. They didn't want or need my help, so I milled about, looking for a distraction. I started preparing dinner, but kept losing track of what I was doing.

When Seth texted me that he would be late for dinner because he had two more training clients, I was irrationally angry. I don't know why. Maybe I needed him there, in the flesh, to chase away the bizarre feelings that Edward had awakened. Maybe I was subconsciously looking for a reason to see my perfect husband as somehow flawed or selfish. Even though he had always put me and the kids first. Even though he had worked far harder for far longer than any man I had ever known to give us the best of everything.

Maybe because I hated myself, just a little, and I wanted to share that hatred with him. I hated myself for not possessing a super-human love, a mystical devotion that was immune to chemistry, or devilishly handsome men, or lust, or possible soulmates that cut across your life path without warning.

When Seth came home, I was in my office with the door closed, my emotions raging like a hurricane inside me as I struggled to catch up on all the work I had missed. When I made myself go to bed hours later, Seth was sprawled out on his side of the bed, unconscious, one bare, muscular arm thrown across his eyes to block out the light from the lamp he had left on for me.

On Tuesday morning, I overslept. Seth had already left for the gym and Devon was busy draining the water heater. I hammered on the bathroom door, telling him to hurry up, then joined Jemmy in the kitchen. The boys left for their bus with stomachs full of cold cereal and five bucks each to buy lunch.

I decided that I was a horrible person, preparing lunch for a stranger, but neglecting my own sons and the man I had sworn to love until death and beyond. Sitting on the edge of the bed I shared with Seth, my eyes filled with tears of shame. I looked at the candid photo that hung above my dresser. We hadn't been able to pay for professional photos when we got married, but Seth's sister, Leah had captured some amazing shots all the same. Seth was kneeling at my feet, his eyes closed, kissing my baby bump. I had my fingers buried in his hair, and I was looking down on him with nothing but love and adoration in my eyes. We were young. So, so young. But we were in love, and anything was possible.

The only threat to our happiness was my own temporary insanity. I needed to act normal, as if Edward Cullen was any other professional contractor. I would speak to him exactly the same way I spoke to Alec, Jim, Maurice, or Jose. He was just a guy doing a job.

There was a knock at the door.

I was still wearing my pajamas.

In a rush, I pulled on yoga pants and a sweatshirt, tugged my hair into a ponytail and clambered down the stairs. I was a little breathless as I threw the door wide open, apologizing and directed Edward downstairs.

"Are you okay?" he asked, a curious smile on his face.

"Of course. Why?"

"Well, it sounded like a herd of elephants was chasing you through your house, and your pants are on inside out."

"Oh my God. Yeah, I lost track of time. Um, so this is kind of embarrassing. Let's just pretend I'm invisible."

"The world would be a darker place."

And that's when I realized that whatever was going on with me was affecting him, too. I was simultaneously terrified and vindicated. I wasn't crazy. But I was still a despicable person.

"I better get to work. Let me know if you need anything."

"I will," he said, then paused, probably waiting for me to leave.

All I could think about was the seam and tag of my pants showing as I traipsed back up the stairs. I crossed my arms and waited until he shrugged and disappeared into the basement.

Marta, our housekeeper, arrived soon after, and I was comforted by her presence, by the whirr of the vacuum and the sound of her singing. I ordered take out and dropped by the gym to say hi to Seth, but he was with a client and waved for me to leave his lunch on his desk. I scribbled a short note on a Post-It and blew him a kiss as I left. It felt artificial, but I pretended that everything wasl normal as I drove home.

I only peeked my head into the basement for a moment, leaving a bag of takeout inside the door. Edward looked up from his work, his eyes dark and searching above the dust mask that obscured his nose and mouth. I nodded and hurried back upstairs, then paused and listened for the rustle of the plastic bag. I was being absurd. I knew that. But, try as I might, I couldn't turn off the part of my brain that obsessed over him.

Marta accepted her meal with a gracious smile and sat with me at the kitchen counter for almost ten minutes while she ate. Then she hurried on with her work. I knew she had another house to visit after ours, so I didn't beg her to stay. I would have felt safer if she had. Not from him, but from myself, from my own thoughts and desires.

Jemmy and Devon came home at their usual time, but sounds of labor continued to sift up from the basement. Edward's progress was their number one subject of conversation. Irritated, I sent them off to their rooms to complete their homework. When I heard footsteps on the stairs, I slipped out of sight and held my breath.

"Sorry for the noise. I'm angling to have the carpet laid and the bar done before the furniture arrives," he called out from the foyer. "I'll be back around 7:30 tomorrow, if that's okay."

I didn't reply.

"Okay then. Good night," he said, a bit louder this time.

Jemmy came barreling down the stairs. "Good night, Mr. Cullen. I can't wait to check it out!"

"Feel free to look around. Just don't touch anything. Your mother would never forgive me if you hurt yourself."

"Aw, don't worry about her. She let's us play with fire and stuff. She's cool." Jemmy was referring to our fire pit on the back patio. Seth had taught him how to build a fire to roast marshmallows.

"She is cool. And very special. You take care of her, okay?"

"Mom takes care of herself. That's what dad says."

"Well, she's a pretty incredible lady, then," Edward said with a low chuckle.

My stomach was twisting into knots. I just wanted him to leave. To finish his work and disappear from our lives. But I also dreaded that moment. My mind was already dreaming up more projects. Modifications we didn't need and couldn't afford. This project was already over our original budget. When he finally said bye to Jemmy, and I heard the door shut, I exhaled with a whoosh.

Seth got home a bit later, and the three of them disappeared into the basement. I stomped up to our room, drew a hot bath and lay there sulking until the water grew cold. When Seth came to bed, I pretended to be engrossed in a book. He updated me on Ben's condition, told me about some funny incidents at the gym, thanked me for bringing him lunch and generally tried to make conversation. My responses were short and stilted.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked, concerned.

He didn't suspect a thing. For some reason, that made me angry. I wanted him to be suspicious, jealous, possessive. Something!

"Just a headache, I guess."

"I'll bring you some Advil. Stay here."

He returned a few minutes later with a glass of water and two tablets. I swallowed them down dutifully, then continued the charade, getting ready for bed more slowly than normal.

As I lay down, Seth began rubbing my shoulders. He pushed my hair aside and kissed my neck. I flinched. I had never in all our fifteen years together pulled away from him. Not when I was tired or sick, not when I was stressed about school or work, not even while I was in labor. Seth had always been my safe harbor. Now, I was afraid that if he touched me, he would be able to sense the subversive thoughts that possessed me.

Seth just stroked my hair, kissed the top of my head and left the room. A few minutes later I could hear his deep, masculine voice interspersed with the boys' higher voices. I lay awake for a long while before drifting into a fitful slumber where green eyes watched me from the shadows and I tried to run away, but always found myself turning back. Searching. Yearning.

On Wednesday, Edward arrived just as the boys were walking to the bus. He met me on the porch and grinned down at me. I had an afghan around my shoulders and a giant mug of coffee to combat the morning chill.

"That's a cute look. You just need slippers to complete the outfit."

"I have cute bunny slippers, but I lost one under the bed, and I haven't taken the trouble to fish it out."

"I knew it. Hey, can I bother you for a hand in about an hour? I'm piecing together the bar and the shelves behind it. It's not difficult. I just need an extra set of hands to hold things steady while I screw it together."

"Sure, no problem," I replied as casually as I could.

The next hour dragged. I wanted to change into something cute, fix my hair, maybe put on a bit of makeup. I settled for swapping my blanket for a nice sweater. I was stubbornly sticking to my commitment to act natural, to treat Edward as if I didn't want to throw myself at him.

Despite my nervousness, working with Edward was easy. He was quiet and focused, where as Seth was goofy and playful when we worked side by side. Edward measured everything two or three times, adjusting the spirit level with tiny nudges until he was satisfied. Despite his meticulous nature, he moved swiftly, and I was almost breathless with wonder when we stepped back just before lunch and looked at the final product. The Black Walnut boards were coated in a dark stain that seemed to disappear beneath the brightness of the green glass and polished mirrors.

"It's gorgeous," I sighed.

"Yeah," Edward agreed, but he wasn't looking at his work.

"I had better get back to work myself," I said, shoving my hands into my jeans pockets. My wedding ring snagged on the edge of my pocket, a subtle reminder that I had no business staying down there longer than the job required.

"I'll walk you up. I have to grab something from my truck."

The stairs were not wide enough for two to walk beside each other. My limbs felt heavy, sluggish with an undeniable need, as I climbed the stairs with Edward right behind me.

"I'm going to order a pizza, if you're hungry. What kind of toppings do you like?" I asked when we reached the front door.

"You don't have to feed me. I have food in the car."

"Granola bars?"

"Well…"

"That's what I thought. I always get supreme pizza with extra mushrooms."

"I won't say no to a couple slices of that. Thank you," he said, his mouth smiling, but his eyes were looking deep into my own, serious and full of hidden meaning.

When the pizza arrived, I carried the whole box downstairs, and we shared it standing at the bar we had built together. I told myself to leave a dozen times. I ran through all the tasks I was neglecting, the calls I needed to make. But still I stayed.

I stood in as his assistant, completing minor tasks as needed, although I was certain he didn't need me there at all. He told me about his favorite projects, and some of the stranger commissions he had worked on around the city. And I drank in every word, supremely conscious that our time together was limited. The faster he worked, the sooner he would be gone. I ached inside.

Jemmy and Devon raced downstairs as soon as they got home. With my children there, raving about how awesome and 'sick' everything was, I felt ill. I was letting them down, cheating on my family by the sheer act of enjoying the company of a man other than their father.

I was in the kitchen reheating leftovers from the weekend when he appeared in the doorway. I swallowed hard, but didn't look up. His figure filled my peripheral vision as he came a bit closer.

"We're coming down to finish work, then carpet. It looks like I'll be out of your hair by the middle of next week."

"That soon?" I asked, my voice small and wistful.

"Yep."

"Well, drive safe. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Of course. See you tomorrow."

I didn't look up until I heard the front door shut. There was a loud rumble then a squeal of tires. My eyes burned.

Thursday flew by too fast. I was euphoric just spending time with Edward. I didn't do a single bit of work until the boys got home from school. Then I locked myself in my office and took out my heartache and guilt on the keyboard. I was going to hell. I was lusting after Edward, fantasizing about committing adultery in every way possible. So many times that day I had felt him watching me, felt the blood rising in my cheeks and rushing to the hidden heart of my desire. And his eyes had followed my pulse, like infrared sensors seeing the glow of lust that bloomed in my heart and belly.

I couldn't even look Seth in the eye. He hugged me when he got home from work, smelling of sweat and ambition. I tasted self-disgust on my tongue. And I wondered how much he saw. I wondered why he wasn't saying anything. And I found myself thinking less of him for not speaking up. Didn't he know he was losing me? Wasn't he willing to put up a fight? Was he really that blind?

Devon and Jemmy worshipped Edward. He listened to the litany of games that they planned to buy and movies they were going to watch as soon as the TV was installed. He let them explore his tools, their skinny arms no match for the weight of the tile saw and rolls of carpet. I found myself imagining Edward in place of Seth on our next family trip. Then I imagined just myself and Edward, laying out on a sunny beach, laughing, drinking, losing ourselves in each other. For the first time in my adult life, I was picturing what it would be like to be single. Free of responsibilities to anyone other than myself. Free to stay out late, free to sleep with whoever I desired, free from smelly shoes and family cars and science fairs. I was in the middle of an existential crisis with no knowledge of how I had arrived there and no clue of how to get out.

I slipped out of the house, sat in my car and called Alice. I started out calmly, telling her that I wasn't feeling well. Then the truth wormed its way out in bits and pieces until I was sobbing and confessing everything to my oldest friend.

She listened patiently, letting me spill my guts like a samurai warrior. Then she picked up the scattered pieces and put me back together. She told me that I was a good mother. A good wife. A good friend. Temptation hits us all, even the strong ones. She'd been down that path herself many times, even though she, too, married her high school sweetheart. They had even considered divorce, a fact she had never told me before. I hiccuped and dried my eyes, feeling like an idiot, but also strangely calm.

When I came back inside, Seth took one look at me and went to grab an ice pack from the fridge.

"Sit down, babe. What's going on? Is something up with your parents?"

"No, no. They were fine last time I spoke to them. I was just on the phone with Alice. It's nothing. Just silly girl stuff."

"Aha." Seth nodded and sat down beside me.

'Girl stuff' was my code for anything hormonal. Somehow I don't think he believed me. I wasn't the type to rage or cry when I had PMS. I generally just ate lots of crappy food. Had he read between the lines? Did he know why I was really crying? He didn't give me any clues.

When Edward arrived on Friday morning, I let him in then went straight up to my office and closed the door. It was past time for me to start acting like an adult. I worked clear through lunch. My stomach was rumbling, but I filled a glass of water in the bathroom and ignored my hunger pangs. I didn't hear anything from downstairs.

It was after 3 o'clock when I heard footsteps in the hallway. I sat frozen at my desk, waiting to see if it was Seth or somebody else. There was a gentle knock at the door, and I swallowed past the lump in my throat. I willed him to walk away, to leave me to my misery. Because, even though I was committed to doing the right thing, to being a good person, there was a piece of my soul that wanted to burst through the door and jump into his arms.

"Bella?" his voice was quiet. Pleading. It shattered me.

I opened the door, and the pain in his eyes only magnified my own.

"Did I do something to make you angry?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Is everything okay?"

"It's great," I lied. "I've just been very busy."

"I wanted you to know that I was finished. Well, except for installing the speakers, screen and chairs. They are scheduled to arrive tomorrow, I think. Seth texted me earlier."

I nodded wordlessly.

"Please. Say something." He stepped closer, and I could smell a hint of tobacco smoke. He licked his lips furtively, his eyes dipping to watch as I subconsciously mimicked the gesture.

"There's nothing to say."

"Nothing?"

His hands shook, rising slowly to circle my waist. Then he was leaning in, and I was captivated, helpless to resist. It started as a light kiss, just a brush of his lips against mine. It started as a spark, and became a conflagration. Like a brushfire at night, driven by wind and an insatiable hunger for destruction, he devoured me. And I pulled him closer. Wanting to be completely engulfed by him. We attacked each other with our need and our desperation, our shattered resolve.

Through the thunder in my ears, the pounding of my heart, I heard a noise that stopped me in my tracks. Less than a block away, a bus was pulling up to the curb, and my boys, my lovely, crazy, innocent, beautiful boys were climbing down the steps. Walking this way. Trusting that their home would be here, their life would be here, their parents, their foundation was intact. Solid. There for them always.

"No…," I sobbed out my denial. "No. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You need to leave. Now."

His eyes were tortured jade, starved and hopeless. He backed away silently. Nodding in understanding. Resignation.

He said goodbye to the boys on the steps of my dream home, his voice full of fake cheer. Then he drove away. I closed the door, sat on the floor with my back against the wall, and cried.

I made love to my husband that night. I threw myself at him recklessly, wildly, completely. I gave him by guilt and my sorrow, my imperfection. I gave him my vows all over again, my heart, my mind, my body and spirit. I shook through my climax, then clung to him until sleep stole over my body.

Seth told me that Edward hurt his hand over the weekend and wouldn't be able to finish the job. Alec made room in his schedule to finish what Edward couldn't. I had told Edward to leave, and he had obeyed me. I was grateful. I couldn't have beared to see him again.

Seth watched my face closely when he told me the news. Maybe he did know. Maybe he had known all along. But he never questioned. Never challenged me. Seth knew what choice I made, and I chose him every day after until the moment a stroke stole him from us. Too young. Too soon. Still beautiful. Still wonderful. Still the love of my life.

 ***O*o*O***

 **Things to Remember:**

 **\- All stories are ANONYMOUS and any reference to who the author is will result in the story being disqualified from the contest.**

 **\- Feel free to pimp the contest!**

 **\- Follow the contest on Twitter or join the Facebook group!**

 **\- Public Voting begins February 23, 2016.**

 **Thank you for reading! Please feel free to leave a review so the author will know what you thought of their story!**


End file.
